


Something More Than Love

by withershins



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withershins/pseuds/withershins
Summary: Two hunters and a vampire walk into a party.





	Something More Than Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoneycombHenry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneycombHenry/gifts).



> HoneycombHenry -- i was so delighted to get your name in this exchange! i went with your prompt of "vampire au: coffin sharing," tho i apologize for the minimal amount of actual coffin sharing contained within this fic

To the primary bulk of the bar's patrons, nothing at all was amiss.  Drinks were flowing, the mood was the right side of raucous, and all anyone could talk about was the event of the year happening tomorrow, electrifying the city.  The air echoed with excitement.

Had anyone in the bar managed to recognize the vampire lurking in their midst, it would have only added to the revelry.  This particular vampire, however, had covered his usual clan markings that might identify him, and kept his lips firmly over his teeth, and so he went undiscovered.

Had anyone noticed the vampire _hunter_ among them, that perhaps would have put a damper on things.  But no one recognized a hunter in the long, lean young man nursing a beer at the far corner of the bar, his eyes lowered to his drink yet also somehow never leaving the likewise unrecognized vampire.  His clothes were plain and dark, and he carried on his person none of the usual weapons and tools of his trade. He, like the vampire, could be any regular person out enjoying a Friday night drink.

Shortly after midnight the vampire paid his tab and left, followed swiftly after by the hunter.  Outside the bar, snow drifted hesitantly down, lining the streets in grey, no deterrent for the streams of revelars still out and about.

The vampire set off at a brisk pace.  Within two blocks, he discovered his shadow.  With confidence typical for his species, he dipped into a narrow alley and waited to face the hunter.

"You've got some balls to come after me," the vampire snarled as the hunter slowed to a stop.  "Or did you think Lord Malkin wouldn't care about one of his lieutenants being attacked the night before the solstice?"

The hunter shrugged, his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.  "You wanna talk about balls, let's talk about you trying to claim you're Pittsburgh clan when we both know you're nothing of the sort.  Does your lord know you're here pretending to be one of Malkin's boys?"

"She knows enough."  The vampire's face elongated and sharpened, stretching into an inhuman grin, fangs dropped and claws extending.  "You shouldn't have come here unarmed. But don't worry, you won't have long to regret it."

No tension in his loose frame, the hunter looked over the vampire's shoulder, deeper into the alley.

"You know, something tells me I'm gonna be just fine."

From the shadows, a figure melted into the light, snow blending around him.  A hunter, by the look of the modified tranq gun in his hand, which was pointed between the vampire's shoulder blades.  The man smiled. He had a long, skinny face and a soul patch, just visible under the brim of his black baseball cap.

"Hey, Matty," the man said, his accented voice dripping cheer.  "Good to see you. Been a while."

"Flower.  Thanks for dropping by."

"Nice work luring him out."

Growling, the vampire lunged, but he barely got one step before a tranquilizer dart appeared on the side of his neck.  He dropped to the ground, dispersing the thin layer of ghost-like snowy mist that had been swirling about their ankles.

"Out like the undead," Flower grinned, and Matt's lips twitched.

"Your jokes haven't gotten any better.  You're sure this is the guy?" he asked, crouching by the unconscious vampire's head.

"It's him.  Here, help me get him up."

Together the two hunters lifted the vampire approximately to his feet, one arm slung over each of their shoulders as he slumped between them.

"It's not too far to the apartment—just over the bridge," said Flower.  "Anyone asks, we say he's drunk."

"You know, your plans haven't gotten any better, either."

Hefting their burden between them, they set out.

 

Flower's apartment was tucked in the narrow streets of an older section of the city, the blinds shuttered and the door unmarked.  At their knock, the door was opened by a tall vampire with gold markings on his arm declaring him a lieutenant of Vegas's clan.

His face stretched into a grin as he took in the body hanging limply between Flower and Matt.

"Hey, you got him, nice.  C'mon, let's get 'im inside."  Pulling the unconscious vampire from their grip, he hoisted him over one sturdy shoulder and turned to carry him deeper inside, to a sparse, tidy kitchen with a dim hallway leading out the other side.

"Where d'you want him, Flower?" he called over his shoulder.

"I'm set up in the first room on the right.  Put him in the chair on the tarp, make sure he's secured."

"Got it."

Matt raised an eyebrow, but Flower just grinned at him.

"Wanna drink?"

Matt shook his head.

"Let me know if you change your mind.  I haven't used this place in a while, but the coffee at least is fresh.  Are you running on vamp time or human?"

"I was on vamp time in Vancouver, but I'm jet lagged enough it probably doesn't matter either way."

"Maybe not coffee, then.  You need sleep?"

"Not yet.  Tell me more about this job.  I take it the guy we grabbed's not the main target."

"Not exactly, no."  Flower paused as the Vegas-clan vampire returned to kitchen.  "He's secure?"

"Ready to go when you are," the vampire answered with an easy smile.  "Assuming he wakes up."

"He will—just in time for daylight.  Did you notice if the blinds were still shut in there?"

"Yeah, shut up tight."

"Good.  Come meet my apprentice!  Matty, this is Ryan Reaves, one of Patch's boys down in Vegas.  Ryan, this is Matt Murray, my apprentice."

Matt offered a firm nod and his hand to shake.  "Nice to meet you."

"Back atcha," said Reaves, shaking his hand with a friendly wag.  "Heard a lot about you from this windbag," he jerked his head towards Flower.  "Would not shut up. I thought he was gonna whip out his wallet at one point and start showing me photos."

"I don't keep photos of Matt in my wallet, what do you take me for?" said Flower, his grin unabashed.  "I keep them on my phone, like a normal person."

Reaves shot him an amused glance, then turned to Matt.  "So, Flower caught you up to speed?"

"Not yet."

"Flower, you want me to fill him in?"

Flower sobered, the warmth slipping from his smile.  "Nah, thanks though. I got this."

Matt glanced between them under his brows.  "What's going on? Something I should know about?"

"Nothing that's gonna endanger you or the job.  Just—you should know this one's gonna be personal for me."  He took his cap off and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting to the side.  "This group we're after, they killed someone pretty important to me."

"Let's sit down," Matt said, making for the square kitchen table.  He and Flower dropped themselves into chairs across from each other, while Reaves took a post leaning against the counter.  "When did this happen?"

"Weeks ago," Flower answered, "right after you took that solo job in Vancouver.  How much do you know about Pittsburgh's clan?"

"Not much," Matt shrugged, tapping his thumb against the table.  "Lord Malkin's the current clan leader, seems to be pretty popular with both the clan and the city."

"Do you know anything about the previous clan leader?"

Matt shook his head.

"Lord Crosby, Malkin's husband," Flower supplied, his eyes shaded.  "Few years ago he gave up the throne to his husband. Peaceful abdication, obviously, and Malkin's been running the show here since."

"Do we know why Crosby gave up the throne?"

A wry smile crooked the side of Flower's mouth.  "He wanted to check up on his babies."

Matt visibly paused, and Reaves snorted.  "What?"

"Not, you know, _babies_ babies," Flower said.  "Vampire babies. Sid—Crosby—he was old blood, been around a long time.  Over the years he sired a lot of vampires, proper siring, you know, didn't just bite them then throw them out into the world.  He raised them, trained them, and if they didn't end up joining his clan, he helped them find good situations with other clans.  Between him and Malkin, they've probably got a baby in every state and province on the continent. When Crosby stepped down, it was so he could travel whenever he wanted and spend time with all the vampires he and his husband had sired."

Steadily, devoid of pity, Matt asked, "How did he die?"

Flower laughed humorlessly, rubbing his face.  "You catch on quick, same as always. We were—Sid and I had been friends for years.  I was gonna have you meet him finally, after you got back from Vancouver. But I had some free time while you were up north, so Sid and I decided to… Officially, Malkin hired me to protect Sid.  Really it was just a chance for the two of us to road trip and catch up." He drifted quiet, eyes turning inward.

"And then Vegas," Reaves prompted.

"And then Vegas," Flower agreed, shaking himself.  "We met up in Vegas and decided to spend a couple days there—I've got a place there, you know, and Sid hadn't spent much time in Vegas yet since the new clan built roots there.  One day I left to pick up some groceries—Sid stayed at the house of course, it was middle of the day, and when I got back… He was dead. His coffin was wide open, and he was still in there, just...fried to a crisp.  Someone had opened the curtains and let the sun do the work for them. Only thing salvageable was his ring."

From his pocket, Flower withdrew a simple gold wedding band, rolling it between two fingers.  Then he clenched his hand into a fist around it, swallowing hard.

"I've done some digging since then.  Pretty sure I've found the clan responsible, but I don't know why yet.  Soon as our friend in the other room wakes up," Flower said, his grin ugly, "we're gonna find out."

"He's part of the clan that did it?"

"Yep.  Tracked him all the way here from Vegas."

Matt nodded, thinking.  "And you?" he asked Reaves.  "Are you here for yourself, or Vegas?"

"Vegas, officially.  Crosby was technically murdered in our territory, and we're really not interested in a clan war with Pittsburgh.  I'm here to make sure everything gets resolved without relations between our clans deteriorating." Reaves crossed his arms across his chest.  "Unofficially, I liked Crosby too. What happened to him—it's pretty fucking low. I take offense to someone pulling a coward's move like that in my territory."

"Got it.  So that's the plan for now?  Question the guy when he wakes up, go from there?"

"That's it."

"Sunrise isn't far off," said Reaves, eyeing the clock.  "You got somewhere I can stay?"

"Guest coffin," Flower pointed, "room at the end of the hall.  Matty and I will switch off keeping watch until you wake up."

"Appreciate it."  He rapped his knuckles against the table in parting and headed down the hall.  "Sleep tight!" he called over his shoulder.

"I'll take first shift," said Flower, turning to Matt.  "Get some sleep—you can use my bed. C'mon, I'll show you where."

Before following, Matt grabbed Flower's arm and folded him into a hug.  Flower, after a moment of surprise, allowed himself to be folded.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Matt murmured.

"Yeah," Flower said into Matt's shoulder.  "But we'll get the sons of fucks responsible.  Motherfucking cowards." There were a few suspicious sniffles, but Matt let them pass unmentioned.

"Yeah.  Yeah, we will."

 

Matt woke mid-morning to Flower's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey.  Can you take over watch now?  Our guest just woke up, I wanna get started."

"Yeah, 'course."  Matt rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  "Need help?"

"I got this."

"'Kay."

Two hours later, while Matt was nursing a mug of coffee at the kitchen table, Flower emerged from the room where they'd stashed the other vampire.  There was a thick, blackish liquid dripping down his left arm, which any hunter would recognize as vampire blood. His mouth was a grim line, but there was anticipation in his steps.

"He's out.  Think I've figured out what they're after, though."  He made for the sink and started washing up. Matt poured him a cup.

"Should we wake Reaves?"

"Nah, he's gonna need his rest.  You good to keep watch still? I need to go shopping."

"I'm good, yeah.  Getting food?" Matt's stomach growled on cue.

"Clothes."  Flower glanced over as he dried his hands, grinning now.  "Looks like we're going to the big party tonight, so we're gonna need something a little more formal."

Matt looked down at his jeans and well-worn tee-shirt.  "Great. Don't get me anything stupid."

Flower's answering wink was exactly as reassuring as it was intended to be—which was to say, not reassuring at all.

 

"Stop tugging, you look great," Flower scolded, and Matt dropped his hands from his jacket collar with a sigh.  "Okay kids, let's review what we know."

Reaves, looking effortlessly cool in a suit so deep purple it was almost black, checked his fangs in the car's rear view mirror.

"What's there to review?  Bunch of upstart asswads gonna get their balls kicked in, soon as we tell Malkin what they're up to.  Don't know 'bout you two, but I'm looking forward to the show."

"Yeah, well," said Flower, drumming his fingers on the dashboard twitchily.  "They managed to take out Sidney Crosby; let's not underestimate them."

From the back seat, Matt asked, "Feeling nervous?"

"Dunno, not really.  Just—I hate not knowing everything."

"Everything'll be fine," said Reaves, steering the car through a turn one-handed.  "Only danger is Malkin's temper, and he's gonna have plenty of other targets. Have you talked to him since telling him the news about Crosby?"

"No.  He— it wasn't a good talk."

"Well, like I said.  Plenty of other targets tonight."

"Yeah."  Flower cleared his throat and, in an obvious move to change the subject, twisted to look at Matt.  "So, you ever been to a solstice party?"

Matt shook his head.

"Should be good experience, then.  Just don't get a wristband at the door.  And don't go into any of the lower level rooms if you can help it."

"'Kay?"

"Wristband means you're good with being fed from.  Lower level rooms mean _you're good with being fed from,_ if you know what I mean."

Matt nodded, but his expression was unconvincing.

"Sex," Reaves explained, amused.  "That's where the sex happens. Solstice parties are all about blood and sex, at the root, under all the glitter.  The clan feasts on the city, renewing itself, and the city, for just the one night, crosses over into the undead realm.  Most of it's just symbolic, but there's a decent chunk of old magic involved too."

"Got it.  No wristband, careful in the lower levels."

"This other clan," said Flower, "they're gonna be taking advantage of Pittsburgh's distraction during all the…" He twirled a hand speakingly.  "Sex and blood and all. And Malkin will be a wild card. He's grieving and angry and unfocused, off his game, which is exactly what those bastards were after when they went after Sid."

"Yeah but once he gets an enemy to focus on, he'll be a machine," Reaves countered.  "Total beast, you'll see. I was around during the Pennsylvania wars, I saw him in action.  Trying to get under his skin is just playing with fire."

"Yeah, we'll see."

"Does Pittsburgh's whole clan know?" asked Matt.  "About Crosby."

"Pretty sure no," Flower said.  "Just Malkin and a few of his top lieutenants.  They'll be waiting for after solstice to deal with the news."

"Should we worry about any traitors in Pittsburgh?  Vamps working with the other clan?"

Flower made a face.  "It's always possible, but unlikely, here.  Pittsburgh's a tight group."

"We're here," said Reaves, pulling to the curb of a roundabout driveway.  The mansion perched above it was palatial and glittering, mostly stately in bearing with odd quirks of personality scattered throughout the architecture and design.

"Are those...Alien statues?" asked Matt as they stepped out.

"Yes.  Don't gawk, makes us look so uncool."

They entrusted the car to the valet and made for the doors, which were nearly obscured by the enormous line snaking out before it—all humans, young and gorgeous for the most part, all expensively and fashionably dressed.

"Remember," said Flower to Matt, his voice lowered, "let me do the talking with Malkin.  Reavo, you can get us in?"

Reaves' sharp-toothed smile was distinctly smug.  "'Course. Follow me."

He swaggered to the front of the line, Matt and Flower trailing in his wake, to the barrel-chested bouncer blocking the door.  Reaves flashed his fangs and displayed his forearm. The bouncer swept his eyes over the clan markings, then nodded and stepped to the side, unclipping the rope behind him.

"They're with me," Reaves said, jerking his head to Matt and Flower.  The bouncer scanned them carefully.

"Weapons?"

"No sir, not us," Flower answered with a smile.

"Wristbands?"

"Nope.  Thank you!"  They ducked in behind Reaves and slinked inside to join the glittering masses.

 

They found Malkin in the more respectable section of the party, where the music was sinuous and the bloodlust was secretive and the alcohol was swirled, not sloshed.  Reaves parted from their group early, going to prowl through the edges of the party looking for signs of the enemy clan, and so Matt and Flower alone approached the dais where a vampire, dark-haired and brooding, sprawled.

Malkin's features bore an equal amount of character and beauty, though both were marred by the terrible frown on his face.  It was easy to recognize him as the lord of the clan, even without the effortless wealth of the gorgeous black suit he wore.  It was something in the set of his shoulders and the weight of his stare, an authority that didn't need to be spoken to be felt.

"Fleury," Malkin growled when his eyes fell on them, low and dark, and Flower winced.

"Malkin."

Malkin rose with predatory intent, then gestured imperiously.  "Come here."

Motioning for Matt to stay behind, Flower approached, wariness in every step.  When he was close enough, Malkin reached for him with a sharp-nailed hand, and Matt slipped his hand within his jacket.

But Malkin's hand was gentle as it cupped Flower's cheek and drew him in to rest their foreheads together.  Matt released his grip on the hilt of his gun.

"Thought you were angry at me," said Flower weakly, gently.

"Furious," agreed Malkin.  "But we both lose. We both mourn.  Mourn together, tonight."

"Okay," Flower breathed.  "I'd like that." They were still for several aching moments, eyes closed.

Flower took a half-step back when Malkin finally dropped his hand away.  "I came with news. Is it safe to talk here?"

Malkin glanced around.  A large bubble of quiet separated them from the rest of the party, no doubt created by his earlier forbidding mien.

"Safe," he declared, lowering himself once more to his seat.  "Come close, speak soft. What news?"

Flower beckoned to Matt to join them in a close circle, saying, "First meet my apprentice.  He's been helping with this. Matt, this is Lord Evgeni Malkin, leader of Pittsburgh's clan.  Geno, this is Matt Murray."

Malkin nodded in welcome, then turned to Flower with expectation.

"We've found the clan responsible," Flower began.  "Leader's name is Valentina. No territory, that's what all this has been about.  Instead of building their own territory, they're gonna try taking over yours. Geno, they want Pittsburgh.  They hired hunters to take out Sid—get him out of the way, and destabilize you. Then, while your clan's distracted with solstice, and you're distracted grieving, they come after you directly."

Malkin was very still.  "You're sure of this? Tonight, they're here tonight?"

"We're sure.  We don't know exactly what they're planning, just that it's to go down here, tonight.  My, uh, source—he didn't last long enough to give all the details."

"You make him bleed?"

Flower nodded.

"Good."  Malkin smiled, and it couldn't be called a nice one.

"Reaves—Vegas clan—is here too, helping.  He got a head start on seeing if he can sniff anyone out."

Malkin looked satisfied.  "Meet Reaves before, I think.  Good man. Better fighter. Vegas sends us their best."

"It will do you no good," a slithering voice interrupted, and a woman, her long hair the color of a fresh wound, stepped towards them.  She was tall, her shoulders broad and her gait powerful, and she carried victory already in her expression. "Surrender your throne, your clan, and your city.  Or I'll tear out your heart."

Slowly, Malkin stood, drawing himself to his full impressive height.  The air around him grew dense, oppressive, thunderous.

"Kris," he said quietly, and out from the shadows behind the throne slunk a vampire, a high lieutenant by his markings, his glare murderous.

"Can I kill her?" he asked his lord.

"She's mine to kill," Malkin denied.  "Clear everyone out, keep them away."

The lieutenant hardly looked pleased with the command, but he obeyed, and in short order the guests had been herded to other rooms, leaving only Malkin, the two hunters, and the woman known as Valentina.

"There is nothing for you here," said Malkin, his voice quiet but carrying.  "Only death. Stupid to come here—especially alone."

"I'm hardly alone."  The words seemed to be some type of cue, but as the seconds dragged on, and nothing happened, the glint in her eye turned harsher.

"Oh, sorry," said Reaves, stepping into the room behind her.  He had a limp body thrown over one shoulder, which he unceremoniously dumped to the floor.  On the body's chest where the heart should rest was a gaping, blackened hole. "Were you waiting for your man here?  'Cause you might be waiting a while."

"Sebastian," she hissed, turning fiery eyes one Reaves.  "You killed him."

Reaves' smile curled.  "Yep. Vegas sends its regards."

"You will pay."  Valentina whirled back to Malkin.  "And you—I had planned to spare your lieutenants, but no more.  They die with you."

"Enough," Malkin snarled, and faster almost than the human eyes watching could process, he attacked.

Emotion lent his blows an inhuman fury, a thunderstorm of rage, which she met with brutal calculation.  Soon both were scored by their foe's claws, dripping sluggish, black blood, and both had sacrificed flesh to the other's fangs.  But neither could get to the heart, and eventually, the standstill became obvious even to slower human eyes.

"This is pointless," Valentina said at last, disengaging and stepping clear.  Her breathing was harsh and panting. "You can't kill me. Your only choice is surrender."

Malkin spat out a wad of blood and grinned.  "Kill you just fine, I think. You're good fighter, but young.  Tire much faster than I will."

"Kill me, and your husband won't live a night longer than I do."

Malkin jerked, a hasty step forward, then froze.  Valentina's smile curled cruelly.

"My husband is dead," Malkin said, fist clenching, voice hard.  "You know same as I know."

"Are you sure?"

From the pocket of her dead lieutenant, Valentina withdrew a phone.  She clicked it on and thrust it towards Malkin. It showed a picture of a man, bound to a chair but clearly alive, his expression calm as he looked directly at the camera.  A shiver ran through the entire length of Malkin's spine.

" _Sid_."

"This was taken just before I came here tonight—check the timestamp.  Your husband is very much alive, for now. If I don't return by sunrise, my clan has orders to execute him."  She raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to lose him all over again?"

Malkin didn't speak.  A strange expression had crossed his face, and his head was tilted, like he was listening.

At long last he said, "Where is he?"

"Far from here—that's all you need to know."

Malkin smiled.  Then, faster than she could recover from her surprise, he lunged, plunged his elongating claws into her chest, piercing her heart.  He twisted his hand once, and, with surprise still carved into her face, she slumped to floor, dead.

"Are you nuts?" said Flower, crouching next to the body and checking for life.  "If Sid really is— How are we supposed to find him?"

"Don't need to find," said Malkin, his eyes fixed on the door.  "He find us."

"I see you didn't wait for me," said a new voice, and in the doorway appeared the man from the photo,  standing out among the glitter in jeans and a tee-shirt.  "You coulda saved some fun for me, you know."

"Sid," Malkin said, a broken, joyous noise.

"Hey, G," Crosby said, smile crooked and soaked in affection.  "Sorry for all the fuss." His eyes flashed to the hunters, and his smile turned wider, brighter.  "Flower! I was hoping you'd be here."

"Fuck, Sid," Flower said shakily.  "You owe me like, ten years of my life back.  We thought—"

"Yeah."  Crosby's expression hardened, falling to Valentina's slumped form.  "She was very careful to make it look that way, but her plan was always to keep me alive.  In case she needed leverage."

Malkin clenched a fist, but released it a second later.

"How are you here?  You escape?"

"Her clan wasn't as loyal as she thought.  I was able to convince my guards to let me go, with the promise that we wouldn't include them in our retribution."

"Sid," Malkin protested.

"You're mad now," Crosby said, smiling knowingly, "but you'll get it when you meet them.  Most of them are just kids, cut loose way too early by their sire. They just need a little guidance—not vengeance."

"We'll talk," Malkin growled, and Crosby nodded.  Their eyes caught and held, warm and speaking, stretching the moment like melting caramel.

"How did you know?" Matt asked, speaking at last, tone respectful as he looked to Malkin.  His body was tense, like it wasn't sure it could relax yet.  "That Lord Crosby had escaped. When you killed Valentina, you already knew he was safe."

Malkin's answering smile was soft and smug.  "Known him for centuries—you think I don't know his scent?  Know sound of his footsteps up our stairs, how he always step on creakiest spots?  Knew he was here the instant he step through our front door."

Crosby's eyes lit on Matt.  "Flower, is this him? Your new apprentice?"

Flower grinned.  "This is him. I'll let you meet him properly in a minute—first, I think we better do another sweep of the place, make sure they didn't sneak anyone else in.  Matty, Ryan?"

Reaves laughed.  "Yeah, I'm coming."  As he passed, he patted Crosby on the shoulder and said, "Glad to see you're not dead, man."  Crosby just smiled in answer.

As Flower and Matt followed after him, Crosby paused Flower with a gentle touch on his arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking earnestly into Flower's eyes.  "I'm sorry they brought you into this and violated your house like that."

Flower chuckled disbelievingly.  "Hardly your fault, Sid."

"Yeah, I know.  Still."

"Don't worry about it—I'm just glad you're alive.  Just let me in on it when you go after the hunters they hired to grab you?"

Crosby grinned, flashing his fangs.  "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Flower glanced over his shoulder to where Malkin was watching them with warm, dark eyes.

"We'll keep everyone out of your hair for a little bit," he promised with a sly, teasing look, and then he left the room with the others.

As he turned to close the door behind himself, he saw Malkin and Crosby pressing together, grasping each other's forearms, their heads bowed close.  He smiled and shut the door.

 

Hours later, as the sun crept up over Pittsburgh, the lid of a double coffin gently slipped shut over the two figures curled inside, entwined around each other.

"Never do to me again," Geno murmured against Sid's temple.  His thumb rubbed against the gold band returned to its rightful place on Sid's left hand.  "Pittsburgh needs you still."

Sid said nothing, just pressed kisses to Geno's jaw and drank in the way he shivered.

"Sid," Geno said, a raspy attempt at stern.

"Geno," Sid answered, as tender and reverent as the day they'd met, and Geno closed his eyes.

"I know," he said.  "I know."

Wrapped in a depth of feeling that required centuries to contextualize, he clasped his husband to himself and let his tension go.


End file.
